


Ain’t No Trench Deep Enough

by whaleofatime



Series: Date Night [1]
Category: Aquaman (2018), Batman - All Media Types, Justice League (2017)
Genre: Batman helping out with some undersea trouble, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Underwater Royalty and Political Intrigue, au yeah august
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25855303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whaleofatime/pseuds/whaleofatime
Summary: Arthur and Bruce discuss a plan to subvert an underwater assassination attempt.It requires dressing up, and Bruce is (unfortunately) all in.
Relationships: Arthur Curry/Bruce Wayne
Series: Date Night [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907071
Comments: 8
Kudos: 55





	Ain’t No Trench Deep Enough

Bruce takes another look at the picture, stretches his mind as far as it can go and schemes as hard as he’s ever schemed, and still finds himself shaking his head. “This is a bad plan,” he says with admirable restraint, instead of ‘How in the hell did you think that I, a human man, could use sfx makeup and prosthesis to effectively cosplay a sea princess?’, which by far is more true to his feelings.

Arthur just shrugs like an idiot with broad shoulders and an empty skull. “You do okay dressing up like an angsty bat, so I thought what the hey, you know?”

Bruce once again looks at the picture of Princess Ayt A’lia, somehow the target of an assassination attempt despite looking like a fully-grown great white shark with 6 pairs of eyes and long bio-luminescent tentacles in place of fins. “You thought that because I built bat ears into my cowl, I also could transform into this lady?” And he means no offense, he means only to credit the princess with what physical attributes he can see, but, “What could possibly harm her anyways?” 

Except ghost nets and, in the long-term, global warming, maybe.

Arthur swipes right on his phone, and Bruce doesn’t even know what he’s looking at. “What’s this?”

“I literally can’t say it unless I got a mouthful of brine, but in human I call ‘em the Mariana Gang, bunch of deep sea fucks with a lack of love in their lives. That octopus looking dude with the external teeth? Yeah, he’s their young new chief, and last I heard he’s about three buses tall, ten buses across, still growing, with a colonising streak a bus-load wide.”

Fuck metric and imperial and whatever passes as standard measurement in Atlantis, the only spatial awareness Arthur has is apparently is ‘bigger than or smaller than a vehicle whose dimensions we have  _ not _ established’. Bruce doesn’t bother getting into a fight, and just assumes that at a minimum Mr. Mariana is at least ten times the size of the princess, and that’s a lot to chew on even for a Great White Lady.

It does bring up an entirely different issue, though. “All right,” Bruce says, instead of screaming. “Even if I were to whip up a disguise that could pass for the princess, and could mechanise it sufficiently that I could move underwater,  _ what _ is your plan for my handling of attempted murder by a sea monster?”

A smile spills across Arthur’s face, and he looks even more a smug asshole than usual, which is an achievement in itself. “That bit’s on me. I just need you to show up lookin’ like Ayti for the coronation parade, and then act like your usual raging asshole self when Mariana man comes up to congratulate you. He’s got a hair trigger on his anger and you’re, like I said, you’re a raging asshole, so the plan is he gets so ticked off he decides to murder you on the spot. The minute he lays a hand on you I can swoop in to take him out and rescue your sorry ass without causing an international incident. Then Ayti and her mom can stop worrying ‘bout getting murdered.” The grin is, inexplicably, growing wider. “Hell of a plan, huh?”

There must have been a time, at least a time pre-Arthur, when a migraine wasn’t just the default state of being for Bruce. He likes to think about those times, how pure and underappreciated they were. It’s a little surprising his jaw hasn’t started spasming yet, but Bruce survives exclusively by taking small mercies and forcing them wide open, so he doesn’t question it. “I _might_ be able to have a prototype done in a week,” he tells Arthur, fully resigned to meeting his ugly end at the snapping jaws of a man from Mariana. 

Arthur thrives by taking  _ might _ s and hearing a ‘hell yeah’ instead, which is probably why he just whoops a little as he sends a series of top-secret pictures of undersea royalty to Bruce over Whatsapp instead of the incredibly secure JL servers.

“Jesus, Arthur, at least use goddamn Telegram,” Bruce says, building up to a proper full-length tirade on infosec, but he gets interrupted by a peck on the cheek and a pat on the ass, and the bastard’s already strolling up the staircase to seduce some pancakes out of Alfred (and he’ll likely get it too, god).

Bruce takes in a deep breath, and unlocks his phone to look upon Princess Ayt A’lia’s sweet(?) grinning(?) countenance, and tells her that “I’m only doing this for you, and because it’s the right thing to do.”

Then he goes to Google the average length of buses in Maine, because forewarned is forearmed, and he’ll be _damned_ if he shows up to a party in the wrong sized shark. 

**Author's Note:**

> There's an AU Yeah August prompt list from like 3 years ago that I swore I'd complete, and here... we.... are.... The list gave me 'Royalty' and I gave myself this. 
> 
> 2020 is a manic fucking year and I just want to put out good vibes!! Really hope you're all doing better than me!


End file.
